


Anticipate

by Nununununu



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Attraction, Character Study, F/M, Femdom, Foreplay, Handcuffs, Kneeling, Negotiations, Touching, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:49:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27133435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nununununu/pseuds/Nununununu
Summary: He’s still kneeling, his head tilted to show his throat as he looks up at her, and yet he doesn’t appear to equate such a position with vulnerability.He should.
Relationships: Nebula/Tony Stark
Comments: 7
Kudos: 20
Collections: Femdom Exchange 2020





	Anticipate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [toucanpie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/toucanpie/gifts).



> For toucanpie :)
> 
> (Originally posted 09/11; date changed for author reveals)

“Will you let me just –” Tony drops down to one knee and then the other, his lips quirking a little as he looks up at her. His hands rise towards her thighs, although he doesn’t touch.

Nebula halts the instinct to knee him in the mouth.

“What are you doing,” She narrows her eyes at him instead.

“Something I’d very much like to do,” Expressions cross Tony’s face too quickly for them to all be immediately identifiable, although she records them, as she tends to, for later analysis, “You know, if _you’d_ like me to. Because that’s. That’s kind of an important part of it.”

“Kind of an important part,” Nebula echoes, flat.

“Yeah,” Tony’s hands wave in one of several gestures that she’s come to postulate mean he perhaps thinks something should be self-explanatory, yet the hint of frustration or possibly exasperation there doesn’t appear to be directed at either her or Tony himself.

Which is – interesting. She has yet to ascertain who that negative reaction is intended for, but if she were to ask Tony, she suspects he would say her father.

Everything seems to circle around to her father, in the end. Even this. It’s an off-putting thought.

Still, it’s – curious, in way. To think that she could potentially ask Tony and he would answer. That he would not lie or seek to misdirect, but just – say.

He’s always talking; she tells herself that perhaps it doesn’t mean much to him. And now is no exception.

“I mean, I don’t mean ‘kind of’, like, you wanting it is only _kind of_ important,” Tony’s hands are inscribing ever more imprecise shapes in the small space between them, “I’d say it’s the most important, in fact, or the most necessary, or –”

If the gestures are intended to aid her comprehension, they fail. Still, watching his hands move is oddly – fascinating. _He’s_ –

Oddly fascinating.

He’s still kneeling, his head tilted to show his throat as he looks up at her, and yet he doesn’t appear to equate such a position with vulnerability.

He should.

“Tony,” As such, Nebula places her hand on his head. It’s – pleasing, when he falls still, stopping talking at once, understanding the implicit command. Pleasing –

Yes. Tony is pleasing. His – his attempts to form a bond of – of friendship. With her. Is strange. He is strange. He is also – _Tony_. Nebula supposes the fact that he is _Tony_ offers up an explanation of a sort. She has come to accept it as an explanation for a lot of things.

And he wants to please her.

“You do please me,” She therefore tells him.

“ _O-oh_ ,” For one so often verbose, Tony doesn’t seem to be able to come up with a response, his dark eyes scanning her face. Nebula is not accustomed to portraying _emotion_ in the way that he does, and yet he seems to see something there that perhaps even she is not aware of, for he makes another soft sound and sways towards her as if unintentionally.

This should be concerning. This closeness; this – being seen.

She closes her fingers in his hair and watches his mouth loosen. She – she _likes_ this, just as she likes him. The realisation rises up from somewhere as if deep inside of her, from a place she did not think existed.

She should stamp out the thought. Instead she tightens her grip, just enough to see his chest move as he takes in a breath.

He’s hard within his trousers too; he has been throughout this conversation. There’s also that.

“Nebula –” There isn’t, however, any demand in his voice. Simply – eagerness. He’s always so eager. Eager to please.

Her, in this case.

“Place your hands behind your back,” Nebula therefore instructs him, just to see him swallow and his cock jerk.

“Sure,” Tony does so easily, the muscles in his back flexing involuntarily as she lets go of his hair to pace around behind him, where he can’t see.

“Tony,” She remains behind him, so he can hear her voice but not see her face. Not hiding. But.

“M-mm?” He startles just a little when she curves her hand, very gently, under his lowered chin. Sliding her fingers over his jaw to guide his head up further, feeling the life pulse in his throat, thinking of how very simple it would be – _could_ be – to extinguish it. This is –

No. This is not a thought that can be tolerated. _Should_ be tolerated. ~~~~

“Bring your hands forwards again to undo your clothes,” Nebula strokes her other hand down the curve of his skull, “And tell me what you want.”

“Y-yes,” Tony’s hands fly at once to the buttons of his shirt, moving more clumsily than usual, squirming a little where he sits on his heels, “I want – oh, I want so much.”

“Tell me,” Nebula circles around to crouch back in front of him and raises her hand to his chest, her gaze on his, waiting, only moving to place her palm lightly over the light that acts as his heart when he nods. The light that is his heart, in a sense.

She has much –

She has much. Affection. For it. And for Tony’s other heart. Underneath.

“Neb – Nebula,” His stumbling over her name surprises her a little, but is something she quickly realises she likes, “If. If you want me to. I want to use my mouth – I want to do that _so much_. Anywhere. Anywhere at all. Wherever you want me to use it.”

His fumbling fingers are undoing his shirt further even as he speaks, revealing his stomach and a dark line of hair leading down into his trousers. He gasps and bites his lips when she touches that hair, her gaze flicking back up to his, grazing her fingers over the soft warmth of his skin. Curving her hand just lightly over the length of his erection beneath the constraining fabric, makes a low noise shudder out of his throat and she feels his cock pulse.

“Yes – _please_ –” Tony shifts on his heels again when she touches him there a second time, his hands flexing on his thighs.

“Put your hands back behind your back,” Nebula waits until he does so, then rises to pad back behind him again. She bends just enough to tap at the cuffs around his wrists. He has explained their function as part of his armour to her, just as he has to anyone who will listen – or is in earshot – but there is only one thing that interests her currently, “Magnetise them together.”

“Oh, you want me –” Tony starts, stops, licks his lips, and drops his head forwards, “Yeah – _yeah_. _Please_.”

His breath goes ragged as he presses a command on one of the cuffs.

The small metallic sound as they link together, binding his wrists there behind his back like that, is pleasing. The look of him – on his knees, his head bent, essentially her prisoner – should be –

It should be off-putting. Disquieting. In any other situation, it would be.

Because Tony is. Tony is her friend. Nebula has no desire to envision him as someone’s prisoner. As her father’s prisoner. She has no desire either to enslave him so herself. And yet.

She is not vulnerable. She cannot understand why he should seek to make himself so.

And yet.

The fact he is choosing to do this for her. The fact he is submitting – easily, eagerly – for her. It – stirs something inside her; it makes energy flow through her mechanical parts in a way she doesn’t recognise.

She doesn’t admit it as such to herself. But it makes something inside her come to life in her chest. The sight of his cock straining at his trousers, a patch of damp darkening the material where it’s stretched over the head is gratifying. She leans in closer to him, looking over his shoulder to see. She has halted him partway through opening his clothing; he can’t seek the relief of unbuttoning his trousers like this.

When she reaches around him to rub her hand over his cock again, he jerks and cries out. Thumbing the button open herself brings the smell of him, the scent of his arousal, and something in her responds to it, some part of her quickening, recalling him speaking of using his mouth.

Bringing herself in yet closer again so his head tips back against her shoulder as she perches on one knee, Nebula moves aside the remaining clothing between her hand and his cock. It’s flushed and sticky with dampness at the tip, curving upwards towards his stomach, pleasingly hot when she wraps her fingers around it.

She doesn’t do anything further, not yet. Just feels the weight of Tony’s head on her shoulder, brushes the arch of his neck with the fingers of her other hand, listens to the little moan that catches at his breath as his hips twitch.

“You are talented at using your mouth,” Nebula says. It is not entirely a question and nor is it entirely an assertion. She has heard Tony convince a great number of people of all manner of things just by using his words.

She is well aware that what he wishes to do will not involve speaking. Although she could control it enough that she would be able to hear his voice.

To feel his mouth upon her – upon the parts of her that are left – and to learn what he has to say about it. Not that she –

Not that she _needs_ his appreciation or his praise. But.

“Please – please let me show you,” Tony whines wholeheartedly in response to her observation as much as he does the slow drag of her hand against his cock, almost incidental; she has no desire to hurry it.

No. She wants to savour what happens. To savour him.

And he responds to her just as much, doesn’t he.

“I will,” Nebula decides, and slides her hand leisurely up the length of his cock again from root to tip, just to hear him whimper.


End file.
